Untitled
by AllMonstersAreHuman
Summary: Something I just thought of one day while watching the movie.I'm bad at summaries, so this won't say much about the story. I just hope it isnt terrible.
1. Chapter 1

So, I dont know how good this is,but I thought I might as well post it. This is the first chapter, mainly emilys past, most of which I thought up randomly. I hope you enjoy it, or at least ont think its horrible.

I own nothing, of course.

I am sitting in a half lit, slightly dusty room, watching the world go by. Sometimes I feel like this two story brick building i live in is the universe's center, and the slightly dingy sidestreets around it are belts of stars orbiting it. The children who live here are just stars that don't know their way back to the belt, who never sto phoping wanting to return to it, but inevitably stop hoping to.

A knock on my door brings me back to the present. I look up to see Miss Minerva, the owner of this orphanage, standing in the doorway. A man and women are just behind her; even I, with no social ties and as much of a place in society as the average beetle, am able to recognize them as Pearsons, a pair of young, almost newlywed aristocrats.

Miss Minerva steps backs, letting the Pearsons in. I expect them to look dissatisfied, to draw back, say im not what they expected. Everyone else does.

But they just look at me, with welcoming smiles.

A week or so later, I am living in a large house in the middle of town, with the Pearsons- I'm sorry, with my new parents-near a few other prominent families, including the VanDorts, a clan of neaveau riche fish merchants. They have a child my age, Victor, but I never talk to him. I'm too busy being groomed into a lady, that if not for the fact that the window to his rrom is close enough to mine for me to watch him sometimes, I wouldn't know of his existence.

He's a bit of an odd boy, all angles and slightly hunched posture with short black hair and the hugest eyes ive ever seen. He has a little dog called Scraps (by the look of him that's all the food he gets), and likes to draw, butterflies in particular. He seems sweet, even though the books I see him reading when his parents think he's asleep are penny dreadfuls. Not that I care about what he reads, especially since penny dreadfuls were what taught me how to read before Miss Minerva ever tried to.

After about a year though, the VanDorts get a lot money from their fish business, enough for Mr. VanDort to hire some man called Mayhew and buy a new house in another part of town.

I never really forget about Victor, even when Mr. Barkis Bittern moves in next door. His parents are recently dead, so he's a lord now, even at my age. He's tall, not as skinny as Victor was, with deep gray eyes.

He also starts to like me. A lot.

And I end up liking him, too.

I'm standing by the old oak tree, wearing my mother's wedding dress (she'd hate to see how dirty I've gotten it), holding a bag containing enough gold to get an entire family through the next decade in comfort, and some family jewlry, waiting.

He should be here by now, Barkis. We agreed to leave at three, but he's nearly an hour late.

"Emily." His voice startles me.

He smiles. "I'm sorry for making you wait, my dear."

"I. . . It's okay." He always makes me stutter. "Are you. . . ready to go?"

"Of course. But first. . ." He envelops me.

I am so comfortable in his arms that I don't even feel the knife coming.


	2. Chapter 2

So, second chapter. I hope you dont hate the story yet, since its my first one. It's finally getting to the present, and therefore getting harder to write.

Reveiws are okay. Flames are not. If you;re going to criticize, please make it constructive.

Again, I hope it isnt too horrible, and I own none of the characters.

"Emily. Emily."

I hear you first, then feel your hand on my shoulder, trying to make me stir.

"Good, you're up. It's almost time to go."

I nod, thinking of how strange it is that after entering 'eternal rest' I still have the same sleeping pattern as anyone, and that I still dream.

You smile. "Here. I made you this." You hand me an orange and red drink.

"Oh." I take it, sipping hesitantly. "It's good, Victor."I say, as the sweetness of it hits my tounge. That's another odd thing about being dead; you don't lose any of your senses. "Thank you."

"Of course." You kiss me lightly. I turn blue, even though I'm used to your lips.

"Now that you're awake, I guess we should go downstairs, right?"

"Sure. Time to meet Bonejangles."

Now that we're both dead and married, there isn't much going on, but everyone here knows that you're good at the piano, very good, actually. And, not to brag, I have a good singing voice, so Bonejangles decided that you, he and I should become a sort of band at the Ball and Socket.

It's actually fun, Bonejangles and I singing while you play the piano. That's my favorite part of it: watching you play, the way you seem to hear the notes the way most people hear actual words, beautiful ones meant to make you feel alright again when you think there's nothing to feel happy about.

Maybe that's why you love to play it, too.

At the same time, I hate you, Victor. I hate you for staying here all this time, even though I knew you saw her that night, while we walked out of the church arm in arm and euphoric, until she noticed us and knew what we'd done. We both saw her, even if neither of us ever mentions it. We both saw her shatter.

I used to hate her, too, when I saw you with her that night. She was an enemy then. One who already had an advantage in our small war, simply because she was alive when I wasn't, you rs when I only hoped to be.

Seeing her then, looking like someone had slapped her in the face, changed all that. All of a sudden I wanted to turn back time and make it so we'd never met, because she was the one who really deserved you.

I couldn't though. I couldn't even apologize.

And so we left. And so we got here.

You never say, but I know you want to go back, from the way you look upwards sometimes, when you think you won't be noticed, and it's so obvious you're not seeing the ceiling, or anything for that matter.

But you never say a word. You never say that you want to leave. Even worse, you're still able to kiss me, to smile when you look at me. you don't mean for it to, but you smiling hurts more than it would if you refused to touch me and only looked at me when you had to, with hate filled eyes.

But you just smile, and every time you do I'm torn between wanting to hug you and wanting to hit you and tell you to get out of my sight and back to her, even if it is too late for that.

I'm sorry. Those are just words, I know, but I mean them. I'm sorry I'm sorry I took you away from where you really belonged, and that I know myself too well to even think of saying any of this aloud.

That's how much of a coward I am. 


End file.
